


sentiment

by weatheredlaw



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Body Horror, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mild Language, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How are you feeling, Agent Maine?"</p><p>"I feel fine," Washington answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sentiment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Commandant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commandant/gifts).



> tumblr user aujoule made [this](http://aujoule.tumblr.com/post/99358425628/au-where-carolina-doesnt-give-sigma-to-maine-and) post: "AU where Carolina doesn’t give Sigma to Maine, and instead Eta and Iota go to Wash and Maine and they become completely inseparable because of their twin AI units." i couldn't resist the temptation for some good ol' fashioned canon divergence, and i decided to expand on this little universe a bit. expect to see probably one or two more parts to this.

Sigma lights her mind on fire. The AI does not just live there, at the base of her skull, in some kind of puptent or sleeping bag on the floor of her brain -- he floods into her nervous system, takes over here and here and here. He pokes through her memories, begins asking questions right off the bat -- _who are the backstreet boys? what perfume did your mother wear? how many books did you read in the fourth grade? do you love him?_ Carolina loses her balance a lot that first day as Sigma makes his way through her bones.

 _His way._ Sigma asserts himself as the creature that he is, and Carolina cannot stop the words from coming out of her mouth.

"He's invasive, sir," is what she says, when the Director asks her how she's adjusting.

The Director makes no comment beyond the question, leaving the Counselor to pick up the slack. There isn't anything Carolina can really say. Sigma isn't rude, it doesn't hurt, and he's already making things easier on her -- he updates her HUD software, tells her that there's been damage to her oxygen unit for the past eighty-six hours, and lets her know that parting her hair on the right makes her look dangerous. She doesn't ask him why he says that, she just takes his suggestions as lightly as she can. 

He doesn't keep her awake, and she's grateful for that. At least, she tells herself that she has to be. She has to be grateful for what they've done for her. She has to show them that she's earned it. When she trains, she uses him as best she can, though Sigma acknowledges from the start that Carolina is more than capable of holding her own in battle.

I wonder why they even considered this a necessary exercise, he muses. You're clearly very talented.

"Can you do less talking and more analysis?"

Of course, Carolina.

She grits her teeth and charges forward.

* * *

Wash knows he doesn't have to, but he keeps up his bedside vigil for Maine. Maine's throat is a bizarre patchwork of gauze and medical tape, and every time he breathes, it sounds like a death rattle. The wound is seeping through the gauze, leaving a traile of blood down his neck, and Wash grabs a tissue from the side of the bed, hastily cleaning it up. He feels stupid for being here, but no one else had come in to see him after, and he and Maine have been working together, for lack of a better word, for a while now. It just feels like he should be here. 

He's always had weird obligation issues.

York keeps telling him that it isn't really necessary, and Delta's helpful statistics let him know, constantly, that Maine will be fine, eventually, and most likely ready for active duty within a few weeks, though it is unlikely he'll speak again. Wash doesn't know if that's really a tragedy or not -- Maine never had much to say in the first place 

"Did you sleep here last night?" York's coming by the medbay to get his eye looked at again. Delta flashes between the two of them, sets Wash a little bit on edge. 

"No," Wash lies. York lets him off the hook even though he knows it's bullshit, taking the anti-biotics from the medical officer. "How's your face?"

"Hurts," York says plainly. "But we're doing alright. You should really take a break from here, he's--"

Maine shifts and Wash turns to look at him. He doesn't open his eyes, only makes a rough gargling noise in his throat and begins coughing. There's more blood flying from his open mouth, and Wash is pushed aside by the medical officer and a nurse, pulled from the room by York. 

"He's--"

"Wash. You gotta give it a break. You need to relax."

Relax. Right. "Yeah, okay. Okay, sorry." 

York shakes his head. "You gotta stop apologizing for shit, man. It's not your fault."

* * *

Carolina visits Maine once, a little while after his throat's been patched up. Wash isn't there, even though she's heard that he's pretty much moved in. York told her that he had to practically drag the guy away. The sentiment makes Carolina's lip curl, a bit, considering she doesn't have a lot of love for Maine herself. Still, he's a member of her team and knows when to pay her respects. 

Maine is sitting up in his bed, flipping through a ratty paperback -- it looks like one of the books Wash is always reading; his locker is lousy with them. She clears her throat, but he doesn't look up. "Agent Maine." He makes a rather disarming noise in his throat. Sigma appears in front of her, looking at him curiously. "I--"

Agent Maine cannot speak, Agent Carolina. My diagnostics indicate that he has sustained irreparable injury to his vocal chords. Without machine support, it is unlikely he will be able to communicate ever again. Maine still doesn't look up, and Carolina glances between the two of them. How unfortunate, Sigma adds quietly, though Carolina knows that he thinks quite the opposite. She turns on her heel and leaves, a bit unsettled. Why do you feel that way? Sigma asks.

"I told you not to do that."

Interpreting your emotions is a part of my programming, Agent Carolina. And you are not a particularly subtle person. Additionally, you are unable to cause me any physical harm, so it is probably best that you do _not_ waste your energy imagining what satisfaction you would get out of beating me to bloody pulp.

"Shut _up_ ," she growls, and goes right into the Director's office.

F.I.L.S.S. sounds over the speaker, her cheery, but insistent voice catching Carolina off guard. She always forgets about F.I.L.S.S."Agent Carolina, you do not have an appointment with the Director today. It would be best--"

"It's alright, F.I.L.S.S. Agent Carolina, have a seat." The Director is standing in front of a large screen, a few unreadable schematics on display. Sigma's programming grinds in the back of her mind, scanning and interpreting, frustrated that he can't make it all out, or even understand most of it. Anger licks like a flame up the back of her skull, sending a shiver down her spine. The Director turns, his screen going dark. Carolina knows she is supposed to be impressed and respectful, but there's some kind of feedback she's getting from Sigma that makes her slouch and tilt her head, regarding him like something she should pity. She doesn't know where it comes from, but she quickly adjusts, pushing the thought to the side and sitting up straight. If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Sir. I just came from visiting Agent Maine in the medbay."

The Director's mouth curves up, ever so slightly. "How thoughtful of you."

Carolina ignores the slight. "I wondered...I wondered if Agent Maine would be better off with my AI. To help with his speech."

Sigma sparks to life again, and it feels like he's grinning against her ear. How clever of you. Carolina brushes him away.

"You thought of this out of the goodness of your heart, Agent Carolina?"

"I don't like seeing a teammate in trouble, sir." She sits up a bit straighter. The Director regards her carefully, his eyebrow lifting. She wishes she could read him, wishes he wasn't always half in shadow, literally and figuratively. Finally, he turns, pulling up something up on his screen and waving her over. Carolina squints, leaning forward to read it. It's a profile. Two profiles, actually. Two AI's.

"I have already taken care of the situation, Carolina. Agent Maine is due to be implanted with--"

"You're going to give him _two_ AI's?" It seems impossible. She has trouble dealing with this one. Sigma's amusement sparks, but she pushes it away. "Sir, that--"

"Of course not." The Director's voice snaps up an octave. "Agent Maine will receive one. Agent Washington will receive the other." Sigma laughs out loud. Carolina can't stop herself from joining in. "Did I say something _funny_ , Agent Carolina?" She presses her lips together. How does she tell him that she doesn't think Wash is up for it, after just trying to give up her own program? "You're excused," he says, turning away from her. The moment dies between them, and Carolina feels a strange need to apologize bubbling up inside of her. She ignores it. He request is not a suggestion. She steps back and turns, leaving the twin schematics behind her.

* * *

Wash twists his fingers in his lap, taps his foot, doesn't know what to say. Maine is sitting next to him, resolute and staring forward. How is he not nervous? How does this not scare the shit out of him? Computer programs in your head? Needles and code and all these things Wash has no clue about, going into brain tissue and metal. He doesn't know how to feel any other way about it, can't -- 

Maine puts his hand on top of Wash's writhing ones, but he doesn't look at him. "Sorry," Wash says quickly. Maine makes a quiet noise that Wash has learned means something like, _It's fine_ , or _Stop apologizing._ Probably the second one. People are always telling him that. "I just--" The medical officer comes out of the surgery suite, the Director and Counselor on his heels. Maine and Wash stand at attention. 

"Agents." The Director stands in front of them, and his voice sounds a little proud, Wash thinks, but he could be hearing what he wants. He knows he's the worst of the lot, knows that no one really expects a lot of him. He was the best soldier in his division when the Director picked him out, but here? Here he's just--

Maine must know his gears are spinning. He puts a hand on Wash's elbow to steady him, and the thoughts come to a halt. 

"This way," the Counselor says. "I hope the two of you read the profiles that were sent to you this week." Maine throws a quick glance at Wash, his mouth curling up into what is fast becoming the only expression he can make that passes for a smile. They definitely did not. Not completely. All Wash can remember is the names -- Eta and Iota -- as he nods anyway. The Director looks between the two of them, how own smile a reminder that he knows more than he prefers to say, always, and shakes his head. 

"It doesn't matter. Gentleman, if you please." He gestures toward the surgery suite, two twin operating tables laid out next to one another, a shit ton of equipment sat between them. Wash swallows thickly, but Maine's hand is still on his elbow, guiding him in. The Director gestures for Wash to lay on one table, Maine on the other. On his side, Wash feels his pulse quicken. Maine is turned the other way, and Wash is staring at the wall. He knows he'd feel better if he could see Maine, if he could reach out, maybe. _Sentiment,_ he thinks. He old CO called it their greatest enemy. Wash had never agreed. 

The Counselor's voice washes over him as the sedative begins pumping through the IV they slide into his arm. "It will only hurt for a moment." 

A gentle hum starts up behind him. Wash feels pain. And then he feels nothing.

* * *

"You've gotta be _fucking_ kidding me!" 

Carolina looks around her feet she's propped up on one of the rec room tables, pausing the movie playing on her tablet. South is raging on the other side, and York is steadily backing up. Only North remains resolute, his posture defensive and paternal, hand on his sister's shoulder. "South, come on. Maine--"

"Yeah. _Maine_ needed an AI. Who the _fuck_ cares if Wash gets one? He isn't even on the _board._ He doesn't--"

"Don't talk like that. Wash is a member of the team, South. You gotta go easy on the kid."

"Fuck _that._ " South turns on her heel and kicks the rec room door open, stalking out. North doesn't make any move to follow her. 

He glances over at Carolina and smiles sheepishly. "She'll cool down."

"Was she ever cool?" York wonders out loud. Carolina huffs, smiling at him. He shrugs at her, grinning and sitting down on the couch closest to her. "Seems like she's been running hot since she got here."

North sighs, collapsing next to him and shaking his head. "I mean, she's always had a temper. It was kind of our thing when were growing up. Good cop, bad cop sort of thing. Except, you know, quiet kid and angry kid. She's just got a short fuse. Keeps her on her toes, I guess." 

Carolina sets her tablet down. "She needs to reign that in. If she ever expects to be fitted with an AI, she'll need to show a lot more maturity than that." Sigma crackles in her ear. 

"Yeah, I don't think that's happening any time soon." North gets up off the couch to go after South. "She should be okay by now. She cools down pretty quick." He disappears out the door, leaving York and Carolina alone.

The two of them haven't had much of a chance to talk, not since Carolina got Sigma, since York was injured. Caroline keeps looking at it, and she knows he can tell. He comes over to her table and sits across from her. She takes her feet off and leans in. "How are you feeling?" she asks. He shrugs. "York--"

"I'm worried about Wash."

"Oh." Carolina isn't expecting that. Frankly, Wash doesn't come up on her radar very much, but she knows that he's friends with York and North, to an extent. "I'm, uh. I'm sure he'll be fine."

York laughs. "You don't have to pretend to care."

"I don't know Wash," she admits. 

"He's a good kid. He's smart, he's strong. I just...he's..." Carolina raises an eyebrow. She doesn't expect much from Wash because she doesn't know like she knows everyone else, but for some reason she gets the idea that everyone here underestimates him. That Maine sees more than the rest of them do, past the naivety, past the jokes. She doesn't mention this to York. She doesn't feel like shattering his illusion of protection. His idea that Wash is something he needs to watch over like a hen. 

"He's going to be fine," she says again, this time with more conviction. 

York must believe her, because he leans in across the table and presses his lips to her own.

* * *

Wash wakes up with a headache. To put it lightly. What he actually wakes up with is a screaming pain is his head that is so violent and intrusive it radiates to his kneecaps and beyond, fills every muscle with pain. He hears something high pitched and pathetic and realizes it's his own voice, the closest thing he can get to a scream. The nurse comes in and presses a button to pump his sedative and he's out again. He catches sight of the back of Maine's head as his eyes close and it helps. Not a lot. But it does help.

When he wakes up again, he still aches, but it's tolerable, something _human_ this time. 

A soft, feminine voice speaks in his ear. Oh, you're alright.

" _Ow_."

I apologize. The voice function can be jarring at first. Would you like me to run the tutorial program?

"Oh my God _no._ " Wash groans and rolls over, grabbing his head with both hands. "What is even happening right now?"

I am the artificial intelligence program Eta. You are Agent Washington. You are in the medical bay aboard the Mother of Invention. It has been sixteen hours since your operation. You have woken up four times, but this is the first time you have been able to maintain consciousness for longer than thirty-eight seconds, your current record.

"Fuck me."

I do not believe that is possible, Agent Washington. The program's voice is bright and amused. Wash thinks he'd enjoy talking to it if it didn't feel like his brain was leaking out of his ears. Your brain has hardly been liquefied, Agent Washington.

"Thanks for the reminder," he mutters. The idea of going back to sleep is appealing, but his muscles ache from too much rest, and he knows he'll feel better once he gets some water and a good run in. Maybe some morphine. "Can you tell me anything about Maine?" Maine is still asleep in the bed next to him, looking a lot better than Wash feels. 

Agent Maine's vitals are strong. He appears to be in REM sleep, but I predict he will be awake shortly.

Wash nods, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. One of the nurses comes out and checks his vitals, gives him the all-clear. He pulls up a chair next to Maine instead, and she doesn't say anything. Doesn't matter anyway -- Wash doesn't really care what anyone else thinks. 

Agent Maine has been implanted with my counterpart, Iota, Eta explains. Its voice is calming, almost maternal. We were created at the same time and share a connection. I am able to read Agent Maine's more internal vitals, if you would like me to review them for you.

"No," Wash says quietly. "He's fine, I know that. I'll just...wait until he wakes up." Eta makes a little noise of agreement and settles quietly into the back of Wash's head. "Um. You can...you can run the tutorial program. If you'd like."

That's quite alright, Agent Washington. The tutorial will be more effective when Iota is online. You should rest.

Wash nods and leans forward, resting his chin in his hand and watching Maine's chest rise and fall, rise and fall.

* * *

No one has seen Wash or Maine in days, not since everyone found out they were going under for implantation. Carolina wonders idly what happened, if it failed or if they decided not to go through with it. Sigma informs her that the ship's computers log the implantation as successful and complete, and that Agent Maine is still in the medbay. "What about Wash?" she asks.

I am unable to detect his location. Carolina sighs and sifts through her locker. They're doing another training exercise today, AI implanted agents only. South has decided not to watch, today, sequestering herself to her room and telling North that she "doesn't give a flying fuck." 

"I'm just the messenger," he'd said, flushing. 

Carolina gets on the floor, noting that Tex is not present. "On some kind of milk run," York tells her. "Dunno, Reggie told me." Wyoming looks up at the sound of his name, scowling and locking his helmet in. York nudges North in the arm and they share a laugh, stepping onto the training room floor. 

_This training exercise will begin shortly. Waiting on all participants._

"Everyone is here," York mutters, his helmet hissing as it locks in. "What's she--"

_Agents Maine and Washington entering the training room. Welcome, agents._

Wash and Maine step into the room, their helmets already on. Even from across the room, Carolina can tell there's something different about them -- their feet step in unison and Carolina doesn't know if it's on purpose or a coincidence, but it's bizarre, to say the least. They seem to be communicating silently, trading weapons on the table back and forth as F.I.L.S.S. counts down to the start of the exercise. Carolina glances up and sees the shadow of the Director, his form angled toward Washington and Maine. Carolina looks at the two of them and pulls her helmet over her head.

You're confused, Sigma says.

"Curious," she corrects.

They have similar translations, he says dryly. Carolina ignores him and grabs her pistol. It doesn't matter. She knows what she's good at. She knows what Sigma is good at. The tables retract into the floor and everyone gathers to one side, the holograms beginning to appear on the field. Carolina's HUD comes to life, enemy targets lighting up and Sigma beginning his statistical analysis of the field. Behind her, she hears Maine growl and Wash say, "Take it slow." 

Carolina wants to tell him he needs to be quick if he's going to make it with the rest of them, but the exercise starts. 

It only takes a few minutes for Carolina to see exactly what Wash and Maine are, now. 

Their moves are perfectly synchronized, their steps like a choreography. Her helmet tells her their pulses are identical, their breathing probably in perfect unison. She gets distracted and feels the sting of the hologram bullets hit her side. Sigma's systems go on red alert, administering the fake medical care for the simulation. I recommend you get your shit together, as you humans say.

"Don't get snarky," she snaps. Behind her, York and Delta are spitting out field statistics and to her left, Wyoming and Gamma are tearing things up. North and Theta have their sniper advantage, and Wash and Maine -- Wash and Maine continue to dance. That's all Carolina can call it. 

It'd be breathtaking if she wasn't a fucking professional with a fucking job to do.

* * *

Wash stands with his back to Maine in the middle of the training floor, gun at his side. The lights come on. 

_Training exercise complete. Thank you for your participation._

He finally turns and Maine turns with him. Eta and Iota are standing between them, mirrors of one another. He wonders what they must look like, the four of them. 

"Holy shit." York jogs over to them, pulling his helmet off with a grin. "You guys were amazing."

Iota's voice sounds between them. We are happy that you are impressed. Iota's voice is soft like Eta's, but is harder to place. While Eta sounds a lot like a mother or Wash's fourth grade teacher, Iota's voice is like nothing he's ever heard. It's like if music spoke, he thinks, and Eta laughs in his ear, agreeing. Brother Delta. Delta appears and nods, though everyone knows the programs aren't supposed to communicate. 

"Guess it speaks for Maine then, huh?" York smiles as they walk out of the room. 

"That's Iota," Wash explains. "And this is Eta." Eta appears next to him and nods respectfully, disappearing again. "They're kinda quiet."

"Do they...did they come together? Like..."

Iota speaks again. We are, as you might say in your human language, twins. If that is helpful to you.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah that helps." York looks between the two of them. They've started walking in unison again, but neither of them has really figured out a way to deal with that. Or even decided if they want to. They haven't even brought it up, they just know it's happening. They do a lot of things that way now.

* * *

The Counselor likes to run Agent Maine and Agent Washington's sessions at the same time. He has two of the therapists on staff work with them, and he watches from another room, listening. 

_"How are you feeling, Agent Maine?"_

_"I feel fine,"_ Washington answers.

_"I haven't asked you a question, Agent Washington."_

Maine's growl and Iota's song-like voice sound through the speakers. _We understand. The connection is very strong._

_"How are you headaches, Agent Maine?"_

_"Not as bad,"_ Washington says.

_"Are you sleeping well, Agent Washington?"_

_ The rest we receive is sufficient. _

_"Do you have any regrets regarding the procedure?"_

Washington and Iota say together: _"No."_

* * *

They walk together and they speak together and they breathe and fight and work together -- it only makes sense for Wash to reach out and for Maine to reach back and to tip their foreheads down and together and breathe the same air, touch fingers that are attached to what feels like the same hands, to speak with the same voice.

This is not advisable, Eta says, but the program makes no move to stop. The voice is breathless in his ear, as if caught off guard. 

"No," Wash murmurs. "I doubt it is." Maine makes a noise that Wash knows is laughter, and kisses his jaw. Wash closes his eyes because he shouldn't do this, most likely, but he's hard pressed to find reasons beyond basic protocol not to. "I thought you were dead," he says. "After..." His fingers brush over Maine's throat. "I stayed there, by your bed. I couldn't--"

Iota speaks softly. We know, Wash.

"I was so glad. I was happy. That I could...that I could keep you a bit longer."

We are happy, too. Maine runs a hand through Wash's hair as the program speaks, and he groans, tipping his head toward the touch. We are forever grateful.

* * *

You cannot tell them apart, sometimes. You cannot pull them apart. It is not an issue. It is not important. Maine and Washington go into battle side by side. They do not crawl up the leaderboard, they climb it. They do not look at it, though, and South is livid, she is lit up with anger and anguish because all she wants, _all she wants_ is -- 

"Agent South."

"Yes, sir?" She's been called into the Director's office, probably to be told she will never get what she wants, she will never, she will never, _she will never--_

"I have an AI for you."

Her heart skips a beat. "Sir--"

"Tomorrow morning, Agent South." The Director doesn't look away from his work. Epsilon's schematics flash on the screen and he waves her off. "Get your rest, agent. We will see you at oh-five-hundred."

South stands are trembling legs and nods. "Yes, sir. Of course." She goes from the office, closing her eyes once she steps outside.

" _Finally._ "

When she gets to the rec room, North is the only one there, save for Theta. They're watching TV, half-asleep. South thinks about waking him up, telling him the good news, but she doesn't have the heart. She gets a blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it over him, hitting the lights on her way out. The Director said she needed to rest, even though she isn't sure how that's going to happen. She heads to the mess. Sometimes, late at night, she used to run into Wash here, but he and Maine are never apart these days, so it's just CT, brooding with a coffee in the corner. South doesn't have the patience for it. She gets what Connie's deal is, sort of, but they were never friends. Which sucks because there aren't that many girls on the team. South was never good at making friends. North always took care of that part.

She forces herself to go to bed, stripping out of her clothes and laying on her side, blankets pulled up to her chin. She closes her eyes, thinks to herself that there's no way she's going to be able to fall asleep, and doesn't wake up until her alarm goes off.

* * *

"That's my _sister!_ " North keeps trying to push past the guards that are stationed outside the medbay, face twisted in a look Wash has never seen before. "I will _wreck you_ , I swear to God, you let me--"

York tries to pull him back. "North, man, you can't go in there."

"She's _screaming._ That's my _sister_ and she's _screaming!_ " Theta is close to his shoulder, whispering so quietly that Wash can't hear. Maine puts a hand on his shoulder and Wash takes a step back. There's a lot going on here, there's almost too much and Eta says to him. Maine and Iota are correct, Wash. We should leave them alone.

"South's--"

Nothing can be done for her. She will recover when she recovers.

Wash looks back at North one last time before heading down the hall. Connie vanished the week before and things around here have been crazy. He hasn't seen Tex in a couple of days, but for some reason, he feels like something big is going to happen. Iota informs him that self-inducing anxiety over events that haven't come to pass is a recipe for disaster. Maine grunts his agreement. 

"Easy for you, you're never worried.

You know better than that, Iota chides. Eta laughs in his ear and Wash rolls over, watching Maine get undressed. 

"It just feels like something's going to happen."

Maybe it is, Eta muses. Wash stretches out, taking Maine's hand when it's offered to him and pulling him gently into bed. They lay silently for a while, breathing in unison, fingers twisted together. It's hard to think about bad things happening when Wash is feeling so good about all this. Like he's grown into something brilliant and warm and he doesn't want to let go. Thinking about the project and the strange way things are crumbling around him takes away from _this_ \-- and he's not interested in that happening. 

Maine brings Wash out of his thoughts with a gentle tug on his shirt, finally getting it over his head. It's quiet, only the hum of the ship making any noise between them. 

Iota speaks softly. You worry too often.

* * *

Wash will never say _I told you so._ Not ever. He's sitting by South's bed when she finally wakes up, and he doesn't know how to tell her that everything has changed. Maine is standing awkwardly behind him -- they'd tried doing this without one another, but being apart was so strange, felt so _alien_ that Maine had suddenly appeared in the room, crossed over to Wash and put a hand on his shoulder, and it was like the air rushed back into his chest. 

"What _happened?_ " South grabs her head and groans.

"Your AI implantation went wrong," North says quietly. "They took Epsilon out."

"I...How long was I out?"

Wash leans forward. "A few days. Are you okay?"

"Head hurts," she murmurs, closing her eyes. Wash can see them moving rapidly behind her eyelids, gears spinning. He expected her to be angry that they'd taken Epsilon away, but she isn't. She just lays her head back down, opening them to stare at the ceiling. "What's happening out there?" The entire ship is on alert, and you can hear it from the medbay.

"After CT left, Tex went, too." North swallows thickly. "York went with her, and the Director sent Carolina after them both." South glances at her brother. "Doesn't matter. The important thing is you're okay."

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine." Wash tilts his head and looks at her. Eta's schematics come up on his helmet, telling him her pulse rate, even monitoring some of her brain activity.

She's far from fine. 

I believe we should leave, Eta says to him, and Wash agrees, standing. Maine follows him out of the room, hand on his arm. I will repeat myself, if only for emphasis. Eta speaks to them all now, appearing between them with Iota. I think we should leave.

"Leave...leave, like...like _go_?" Wash asks. Maine rolls his eyes. "I'm _clarifying._ Don't be a dick.

Yes, Eta says. I believe the proper term is AWOL.

"We can't go AWOL," Wash says bluntly. "That's not--"

We are concerned they may remove us, Iota says carefully. Wash balks.

"No. They wouldn't do that, they--"

Considering Agent South's experience, and the fact that several agents with AI units have gone rogue, it is unlikely they will allow anymore agents to do the same. We should leave before we are separated. Iota sounds a little panicked, and Wash knows the feeling. Losing Eta and his connection to Maine might kill him. It really actually might. You are not going to die, Agent Washington, Iota says dryly. But we should make arrangements.

"What about everyone else?"

Maine makes a noise, and Wash turns to him. He knows that noise. That noise means _fuck everyone else_. It means even more when Maine pulls Wash in and kisses him, hands rough behind his head. 

When he pulls back and Wash can see the look in his eye, he knows -- it means _everything_.

**Author's Note:**

> i should also note that it's pretty much my headcanon that everyone in project freelancer underestimates wash. i know he straight up admits to not being as good as any of them in season 11, but he clearly had talent and promise, and he was selected to receive an AI in canon. he was easy to tease and easy to work up, and i like to think everyone kind of wanted to protect wash, even though he certainly didn't need it. that's all.


End file.
